A street called Enbizaka
by tenkage onna
Summary: Havent I become the kind of person you like? Arent I beautiful? AU


aha!! part one is finished~! this was inspired, and closely follows, the song misao sent me. its a vocoloid song called the tailor of Enobizaka. go look it up sometime, its a haunting and lovely song! in my oppinion, you can hardly tell a robot sings it. misao was the one that suggested the idea as well~!

warning: AU, spoilers, gore, character death.  
inspiration: "tailor of Enobizaka"  
rating: T  
pairing: onesided princess-lune/yamato, yamato/sayama, yamato/girl!uru, yamato/oume (hibari) and very lightly hinted K/lune  
summary: Do you know how a scissor or a sheer works? Well. A scissor is formed by two sharp pieces of metal that are bound together. If done right, they scrape together and cut well. The princess's mother always used to tell her that was how a good marrige worked. Did you hear?  
disclaimer: not mine in any way, please do not sue!

enjoy~! the second part will be up eventually, i promise.

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There is a princess, who has hair radiant as the sun. Have you heard? They say she's as radiant as the sun, but pale as the moon. She's truly a strange sight in this country of dark hair. She is lovely, with a coy smile and graceful hands. She's all smiles, snipping at flower stems with ornate scissors. She loves to arrange lovely flowers, some hard to find outside of the land. They say she makes the most lovely arrangements ever known, though she never shares them. She speaks with a soft voice, and her chocolate brown eyes glitter even in the darkness of her bedroom. Even the Emperor visits her, in hopes of winning her heart, or so they say. But she wont accept, she never does. She turns him down easily, because she has someone.

That someone is strong and tall, wild hair and narrow eyes. He is the lead of the castle guards, handsome and loyal. He is her wonderful fiancée, and she loves him very much. She loves him more than she could ever love her family, or any Emperor. He smiles only for her, and speaks to her in a soft voice, even though she knows he isn't soft at all with others. He wears the royal guards uniform, but it is a mess from all the fights he has been in. No matter what, he wont get a new uniform. She is very happy with her gruff fiancée, so very happy.

But, did you hear? Did you?

The princess's fiancée isn't faithful.

Who is that girl he's always next to? She's much smaller than himself, and she's so much more homely. She talks to him, and doesn't even use an honorific. Her eyes glitter, and she wears such plain clothing. And he loves her. He loves her, and kisses her, and holds her hand. The princess couldn't stand to watch, not at all. In a furious, betrayed huff, she stormed back to her room and slammed the sliding door. Why did he need her? When he had someone as lovely, as elegant and caring as herself? It enraged her.

The sound of snipping echoed for hours that night.

Did you hear? Did you hear??

There has been a tragic murder.

The lady frowned, watching the man from her room. He was bent over the railing of the bridge, watching the slowly churning water beneath. Even from here, the man's noble face was worn with a deep sorrow, far deeper than any lake or sea. She could tell he wanted to cry, for she knew her fiancée best. Standing, the princess smoothed out her skirts, and made to leave her room.

Then a young girl with bright red hair skipped over. She was beyond lovely, her kimono swishing with each graceful lift of her leg. Her hair trailed long behind her, and she clung to the man as if she knew him well. Stopping in her steps, the princess stared in shock at how familiar and easily she touched and spoke. Her wide brown eyes shook with heartbreak as she watched the man's worn lips tug into a loving smile.

So this was the kind of girl he liked? Was that it? Were she and the homely woman only substitutes? Or maybe, he was just that unfaithful. Maybe, he never loved either of them. Maybe he just couldn't keep his hands to himself. The partially open door smashed shut. The princess grabbed up her small scissors, setting to work on her flowers. She snipped and snipped until all the rage fled her small frame, until her tears were spilt.

Did you hear...? Another murder. The killer....who could it be? Why would they do this?

The princess was horrified to hear this news. Her slim hands fisted in her red kimono as she watched the man. His eyes were almost lifeless, just staring at the gate to the castle blankly. He didn't seem as if he were even fit to work. A deep pity filled her heart as she watched him. The princess had been gathering more flowers, as all of her white lilies seemed to vanish. In there place, were dozens of roses, damp with her tears.

She stood a fair ways away, in the garden, and watched him sadly. She may be upset with him, but her love was greater. The woman took a step forward, her long golden hair fanning behind her before she stopped short. Another girl skipped up to him. She was sad, concerned perhaps, and was speaking quite animatedly. Her short light pink hair shimmied with every time her clumsy hands cut through the air. She looked up at him adoringly, and was only half his height.

The man's face split into another soft smile, eyes tender. He squatted, and reached out to pat the girl's head gently. She smiled gleefully, and her hands dropped to fiddle with her short kimono. What? The princess's eyes widened a little as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She giggled, and he reached inside of his top, fishing around only for a moment before withdrawing something.

A sunflower.

It was large, bright yellow and elegant. Clearly, he had gotten it from the castle's garden. The pink haired girl's eyes widened, and she seemed so happy. He fastened it within her hair, and she smiled widely, doing a twirl. The princess felt her stomach drop. Wasn't that a little weird? She wasn't even his age! She was just a child! Her hands tightened into fists.

And with her own flowers, had he made his move!

Sickened, the princess stormed off, only half of the flowers needed clutched at her side. She slammed her door harshly, breaking down shortly after. What was it that she didn't have? Why didn't her precious fiancée love her, and only her? Why didn't he visit her room anymore? She snipped furiously for most of the day, and all of that night. The servants didn't dare bother her, and she was thankful. Her hands were slippery with thick tears. She could hardly keep a firm hold on the sheers.

As she snipped and yanked at a particularly thick stem, the princess frowned. The moon hit the flower just right, and she saw that it was coated with crimson. When did her flowers turn this color? It seemed strange. Come to think of it, she could swear she'd gotten new flowers, but now they were all roses. She ignored it the best she could. She needed to be ready after all, right? She was almost there.

Just one more snip, and she would be finished. She would visit her love tomorrow. He wouldn't come to her, and she was sick and tired of waiting for him. Pressing down hard, she cut through the sunflower's stem at last.

Do you know how a scissor or a sheer works? Well. A scissor is formed by two sharp pieces of metal that are bound together. If done right, they scrape together and cut well. The princess's mother always used to tell her that was how a good marriage worked. By scraping against each other, and sharing dissimilarities, they formed a perfect pair. A perfect person, you might say.

And the princess firmly believed that she and her love could be like that. They were already separated by class, by appearance and gender. They could grind so well, she knew. And they would. She had paid the girl's he had been familiar with careful attention. She had created an outfit that he would love. A lovely kimono, a brilliant red and finely tailored. A homely sash that the first girl had worn. And now, she wore a beautiful sunflower, just as his lesser affection had. How is this? She thought. Aren't I the woman you like, the kind of girl you're attracted to?

Aren't I lovely?

You heard, right? You had to have. Three murders now! It must be the work of demons, right? It had to be! The killer hadn't been found yet...Perhaps it was karma? That samurai guard WAS unfaithful.

She was so nervous. What would he think? They hadn't met each other in so long...she was worried they might have fallen out of love. She paid the castle's servants little attention, and snuck from her room. Her father wouldn't like her out and about when so many had died. Not that she minded those deaths, truly, she thought those hussies deserved what came to them. It was how it affected her precious fiancée that mattered.

"Hello...You're the princess, aren't you? What can I do for you?"

The princess stared. She stared for a long long time. What? She blinked, her lips quivering a little at how...distantly he spoke to her. He stood at his post, eyes blank and face devoid of any real smile. He didn't even stand straight, mostly leaning against the wall. She drew a hand to her chest, eyes wide and heartbroken. Blinking, the man frowned deeply, and then noticed what she was wearing.

The kimono was short on her, revealing a good bit of her legs, and the sunflower was heavy and stained red. And he recognized them instantly, eyes lighting up.

"Hey, those look a lot like the ones Oume and Uru wore..."

She couldn't stand it. She couldn't TAKE it. Her hands gripped into fists underneath her kimono sleeves. He remembered them, used names, no honorifics. But he didn't even speak intimately with her. Like she was a stranger! Her rage overflowed. She couldn't take it.

So...you know. Right? You must. Theres no question any more, right? That man...and all of his family. The demons must be satisfied, right? Theres talk of an exorcist coming. But isn't the damage done?

The princess didn't leave her room that day. She stared at her messy and destroyed arrangements of roses. All of the red blended together, like the red that dyed the river water under the bridge by her room. It was where they had found the redheaded girl's body. And the more she stared, the redder her vision became. In her hands were sticky and soaked scissors, and a rose.

They were damp with her tears, which bled a thick red. The red she realized, that symbolized their greatest dissimilarity. It wasn't able to grind against her own differences any longer. The bloody red meant one thing, the only thing she clearly understood right now.

He was dead.

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w-was it any good? i hope it came out well. i really enjoyed writing it!


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